Month: April 2021

The flowers are just gorgeous right now, and petals float on the breeze as birds call out to one another from tree tops, car roofs, and fences. It’s all so gorgeous…and somewhat uncomfortable.

I do not have allergies. I really don’t. For some reason, I wear that as a badge of honor, though it has nothing to do with intelligence or good health habits. My poor little sister got hit with all of them; I guess my parents saved them up for her. Yeah, so I don’t have allergies, but on my runs lately I have been finding my eyes stinging, my nose running, and my body feeling just plain old tired.

It’s all so pretty right now, but it comes at a price. And…am I a little allergic to pollen??

I went back to my old hair stylist today, Jennifer Kim. I had left her a few years ago when the salon raised their prices yet again. She is very talented, but I had hit my limit.

I joined the rest of the family in going to a very sweet and fun young woman from Ethiopia at a more reasonably priced salon. She was good, but not quite at the level of Jennifer. Nevertheless, we were all happy with her. Then COVID hit. We managed to see her once during the past year, and then she returned to Ethiopia.

That brings us to our next hairdresser. She’s very bubbly, fairly cheap, and would come to our deck. We all enjoyed her humor, but none of us were satisfied with our cuts. I began to get the distinct feeling she didn’t really know what she was doing with my hair.

I went running back to Jennifer today. Now she has her own little space in a building consisting of 20 independent, beauty-related businesses. She is so happy to be running her own show. She couldn’t figure out what the previous hairdresser had been thinking, but she worked her magic.

I am back in good hands and have renewed by commitment to my hairdresser extraordinaire.

I saw it the store today: rhubarb! Gorgeous, deep plum-red stalks, lying conveniently on the shelf below the strawberries. I was too busy today to make the pie, but it’s happening tomorrow.

After strawberry-rhubarb, I’ll move on to berry pies and tarts until my beloved tart cherries hit the farmers maker. I have a cherry pitter in my kitchen drawer that has been waiting patiently all year.

Once we hit peach season, I’ll stretch out the peach treats as far into early fall as I can. I love this season!

I don’t think I’ve ever been as focused on counting down to summer as I am right now. I’m not necessarily swamped with work or anything, and I feel like we’ve built some sort of community with this year’s sixth graders.

I just want to close this chapter. It’s almost like being a real teacher. It’s nearly like planning with colleagues. I can just about approach my students at their desks. Some of them are compelled to answer my questions from behind their screens. Ugh. Virtual, hybrid, concurrent, all terms for a diminished version of living. Can we please just put it to rest? Please.

I finished reading A Night Divided today, and I’m intrigued anew by the Berlin Wall.

I was there in 1993 and saw the chunk left up as a display, complete with a portion of the Death Strip, the up to 160-yard strip between the two walls that contained armed watchtowers, guard dogs, floodlights, and tripwire machine guns.

What still sticks in my mind from that trip to the wall is the juxtaposition of tools of intimidation and violence with the signs of the irrepressible human spirit represented in the graffiti art on the walls and the stories of courageous and harrowing tales of attempts at escape, the vast majority of which ended in death.

This book was a page-turner, and now I’m interested in reading true accounts from life on either side of the wall. Historical fiction is great that way: it hooks you in nice and easy, and then sets you on your way to dig deeper.

This book

Dad and I went for another walk today, and this time we went off-roading. Well, not entirely. We took the paved path down the hill into the woods around the creek. I held onto him in case he stumbled on the decline, but he did beautifully. He started to breathe a little heavily on the way up the hill, but he was able to catch his breath when we emerged on the grounds of my old elementary school.

We talked about what had changed since it opened in 1980: the wooden play equipment had long ago been replaced by plastic, an even grass field covers the old baseball field, the gym entrance now has a covered walkway, and the trailers are gone from the parking lot. Otherwise, it looks pretty much the same as it did then.

We opted to walk our old running route from that point. As we neared .7 miles, according to my watch, Dad needed a break. We stopped on the sidewalk and rested for a few minutes. I started to get nervous. Had I pushed him too far? Was he in danger of falling down? If so, could I catch him in time? Would he be able to climb the stairs to bed this evening?

“Dad, we can always call Mom or Chris to come get us.”

“No, I’m good. Let’s keep going,” he insisted.

After another quarter mile, we reached a bench at the shopping center just a few blocks from the house. I helped him lower himself onto it, and we continued our ongoing conversation about what’s changed and stayed the same over the years: the insurance company used to be a Stride Rite…the McDonald’s used to be a Roy Rogers…there was a People’s drug store and a Hallmark shop right here before Safeway expanded. Remember the Hunan East, where we would go for everyone’s birthday? Now it’s a different Chinese restaurant. It never gets old, even though we’ve been having pretty much the same conversation for years.

After he climbed the front stairs and was safely ensconced in the kitchen, I felt relieved, though still a bit concerned I had pushed too hard.

I just now texted my mom to check on him.

“He’s feeling fine – wanted to walk with me to get the mail!”

Super!

“Okay, so what have we learned?” I asked myself.

“That I can push harder!”

Just kidding…sort of.

Today was college spirit wear day at work, so I borrowed a JMU shirt from a friend, since I lost track of my JMU hoodie a few decades back.

I was surprised at the school pride that washed over me when I pulled the shirt on and saw the bold, gold letters standing out against the purple background. I was immediately flooded with images of the college green, my freshman dorm, the food hall, and the bluestone buildings.

It may be time to get a new hoodie. It’s only been 27 years since I graduated.

My attendance question today was “If you found out you were going to live forever, what is one thing you would change about your life?” They didn’t entirely stick to the question, but it was definitely entertaining.

Responses started rolling in.

“I would exercise more.”

“I would travel the world.”

“I would go to Nascar.”

“I would travel to Texas and get a super car.”

“I would protest for women’s equal rights.”

Then, things began to take a turn when they took it to mean they were invincible.

“I would do very deadly things.”

“I would jump off a cliff.”

“Get the most deadly and well paying job.”

“I would eat a Tide pod just to see what they taste like. And live in something strange.”

There’s nothing quite like the middle school mind.

Edwin received his first dose of Pfizer around 4:00 this afternoon. The whole process was smooth and swift, much like when I got my own vaccination. They turned an out-of-business outdoor recreation store in Woodbridge into a vaccine site, and those people have it down.

After flashing his appointment time on my confirmation email, we were directed to follow the woman with the orange flag to a table where they asked Edwin questions and took my information. Then we were directed to the man with the blue flag, who pointed out the table where Edwin would get his shot.

The shot was in and out before he even realized it, and I barely even caught of glimpse of it. After the woman gave us instructions about scheduling his second shot, we were directed to another cheerfully waving orange flag, where a woman directed us to the observation chairs.

And that’s how you vaccinate.

It’s always wise to do the project you are asking students to do before you assign it. I have been burned more than once in the past.

I just finished creating an example “one pager” on the read-aloud I used with the unit we are finishing. The kids will create their own on the books they read for their book groups.

As I added each required piece and selected three options from the choice list, I envisioned the questions and comments that will pop up when I present the project. After my coloring, cutting, pasting, and referring back to the book, I am fully prepared. Bring it on, children!